


Seven Days

by hikari_datenshi (Salamander)



Category: British Comedian RPF
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-27
Updated: 2010-04-27
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salamander/pseuds/hikari_datenshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of Charlie's articles said he has restrictive claustrophobia, David tries to cure this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven Days

Monday

Charlie stared at the wall behind David, who was wrapped around him like an octopus hugging its Mr Potato Head. It had been one minute. David was fast asleep, and Charlie was manically counting the seconds in his head. He pretended, at first, that he was counting sheep in a perfectly normal attempt to get some sleep, but there was a depressing absence of fluffy white things leaping through his subconscious, and a depressing presence of his claustrophobia, which was currently laughing at him.

David's gentle breathing filled his ears. Charlie squirmed, trying to dislodge David, or at least, get him to loosen his grip slightly. David just made a noise that would have been adorable on any other night, and tightened his arms around Charlie's stomach.

Charlie stared at the wall over the top of David's head. Five minutes. He squirmed again, but to no avail. The covers were tucked underneath him, there was literally no escape. What if they had a fire, Charlie thought, and an embarrassing high-pitched noise escaped from his lips. Hell, what if there was a zombie apocalypse? What if a zombie lurched through the door right now, and shuffled over to eat his brain? He wouldn't be able to escape, David would basically be holding him in place for his zombification like some sort of twisted executioner. What if the zombie was _on fire? _

Charlie's forehead broke into a sweat, and he shook David by the shoulder. He did not wake up, but he did smack his lips in a sort of response and snuggle his head closer into Charlie's chest. Charlie wriggled backwards, jerking his knee up in an effort to get some sort of distance between them. It worked, if the definition of 'worked' was 'put Charlie into an even more uncomfortable position'. He pushed his knee towards David, eliciting a disgruntled noise as his arms slowly detached.

Charlie wriggled backwards with a relieved sigh, leaving the duvet to David, who grabbed a corner of it and pulled it towards him like a Charlie-substitute. He turned over rapidly and glared at the door. There were no flaming zombies after all. No creepy faces looming at him from the shadowed corners of the bedroom. His head sank into the pillow, and lo and behold, the sheep spared no time in coming this time. The fickle bastards.

Charlie had reached twenty fickle, white woolly bastards when David crabbed over and entwined his arms around his torso once more, his head fitting perfectly into the hollow of Charlie's shoulder blades. _Fuck._

 

Tuesday

Okay, so Charlie had to admit that yes, hugging was lovely. It really was. But David's habit of clinging on like a limpet to a sea-beleaguered rock was beginning to grate. And well, it wasn't so much grating, as putting him in a constant state of _oh my god I can't breathe fuck fuck fuuuuuck._ He was honestly shocked that David hadn't noticed anything by now. The way his palms slicked with sweat, his breathing accelerated slightly, the way he'd hug back for no longer than a minute and then desperately pull away.

The last time he did it, Charlie had flailed. He had actually flailed like a fucking little girl. David shifted away the sofa, his eyes widening. "What did I do?" His voice quavered slightly, as if he was almost afraid to ask the question.

"Nothing. Just. Nothing. Fuck," Charlie pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm going to bed. Turn the lights off when you come?"

David sat, numb, on the sofa, staring after Charlie as he escaped to the bedroom.

 

Wednesday

Charlie placed two bowls of cereal down on a tray in David's lap. The milk didn't spill, he noted proudly, as he sat down on the bed. David put the tray onto the bedside table, and leaned over to give Charlie a hug. "Morning," he said, but then his face fell as Charlie wriggled out of his embrace.

"Cereal," Charlie said, grabbing his bowl. "M'hungry," he spooned a large amount, dripping with milk, into his mouth.

"Yeah, thanks," David said, smiling hesitantly. He waited until Charlie was occupied with his cereal before speaking again, "It's possible that we need to talk."

Charlie looked alarmed, and he swallowed his spoonful quickly. "Do we? I don't think we do."

"Yes. We do." David's voice was firm. He was determined to see this through to the end.

"Oh. About what?"

"The flailing thing? And the other night, I felt you trying to escape, you pretty much kicked me in the bollocks," he grimaced. "And you know, just now. What's going on? Do I have leprosy? Do you have leprosy? Please tell me there's no leprosy, Charlie." His voice went slightly high-pitched in that way he hated, but he couldn't stop himself.

Charlie looked nervous, and shovelled another mouthful of cereal in. He chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed and took a deep breath. "No, I don't have leprosy. You don't either, in case you weren't sure. It's just... I. Um. Claustrophobia. And I have no idea why I'm so embarrassed to admit this, but I have claustrophobia, and your hugs are, well, they're all-engulfing, David, and I feel like I'm going to die." He exhaled, as if he'd just got a huge weight off his chest.

"Oh," said David. He picked up his cereal for something to do with his hands. "I don't really know what to say about that. I was expecting something worse, you know, like you found me physically repulsive or something."

"Er no, there's certainly no physical repulsion going on. It's sort of hard to you know, get a hard on when you're physically repulsed by someone. Makes watching the election coverage a lot less sexy which is, frankly, a relief."

David snorted, and nearly choked on his cornflakes. "But really though," he said, between coughs. "I don't want to, you know, stop hugging you forever. I quite like hugging you. You may have noticed."

"It's not the hugging that's the problem. It's the whole... oh god. I don't know. Needing to escape? There's no escape route. Your arms aren't insubstantial, and I can't phase through physical matter."

"Well that's easy then, I'll just turn insubstantial," David grinned. "But seriously. We'll work something out. Probably. I could just... hug your leg or something? One arm?"

Thursday

The working things out, well, it was less 'working things out' and more 'trying everything under the sun that could possibly make Charlie less claustrophobic about being hugged' and, frankly, so much stress was wearing on him.

David, bless him, was trying. He awkwardly brought up the topic of cognitive therapy, his voice falling into the soothing cadence he took on when he was explaining things.

"I read, uh, well I've been doing some reading, and apparently explaining can help?" He paused, waiting for Charlie's reaction. Charlie nodded and smiled, though his heart wasn't really in it. People had tried to explain that nothing was going to set on fire, and that the oxygen wasn't going to suddenly run out, but it didn't work, it'd never worked. But there wasn't any harm in letting David try, so he sat back, rested his head on the back of the sofa, and listened, his eyes half closed. He liked how David's voice went when he was explaining things.

"Er. Okay. You know that when I hug you, you can actually ask me to let go, right? I won't latch on like a bulldog and savage your face off. The book said that explaining things like that helps. Does it help?"

"Not really, no. It's more the sense of impending doom that's the problem, really."

"My arms won't suddenly take on the strength of steel girders. I won't squeeze all the oxygen out of you, and I certainly won't set you on fire. This isn't working, is it? I just sound like I'm being patronising." David pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"Points for effort though. And it is good to know that you won't set me on fire."

 

Friday

"Let me guess, you've been reading stuff again?"

"Yes, maybe," said David, shifting from one foot to the other.

"What is it this time?"

David lunged at Charlie, who yelped and danced out of the way. David stumbled, wrong-footed, and then managed to catch his balance again.

"What the fuck?" Charlie sounded cross, which was always a danger sign.

"Well, the thing said that exposure to the fear helps to erase it. Although it did say to start with smaller things..." David's voice petered out as Charlie glowered at him.

"So you thought that lunging at me would be a good example of exposure?"

"I'm sorry," David sighed. "It's just. I don't know. Fuck, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Charlie admitted, gruffly. "I'm sorry for, you know, acting like a bastard. I know you're trying. I'll stop being a wanker, I suppose."

"Er please, that could help matters. It's not making me want to help you, when you're snapping at me at every opportunity. And I know it might not seem like it, but the research paper I read, well, they had a really high percentage of success, so I think we should carry on with the exposure thing." David winced in anticipation of Charlie's inevitable put-down, which never came, much to his surprise.

Charlie closed the distance between them and kissed David thoroughly. "No one else would put up with me," he said, as he pulled apart.

 

Saturday

It was a bit weird, Charlie reflected, that sex wasn't a trigger. He put it down to the distraction method, and when he told David about this, the smile that spread across his face was absolutely divine to see.

"So maybe we could, I don't know, integrate hugging into sex, somehow?"

David nodded eagerly. "I read somewhere about positive reinforcement. If having an orgasm isn't positive reinforcement enough to get rid of all those negative connotations, I honestly give up."

"It could work. I mean, not as if we have sex like emotionless robots or anything," Charlie added, quickly. "You know. There's nothing wrong with our sex as it is now. It's pretty fucking great, to be honest. But..."

"We'll try it. Being closer could actually work. Just don't go having a panic attack on me, okay? I don't want to get a black eye if you flail at me when I come. That's not the sort of reinforcement I'd like to have forever, if it's all the same to you."

Charlie sniggered. "It would be quite amusing though."

"Oh yes, very amusing. I'd _love_ to have a rapturous orgasm every time I got hit with something. A person on the tube, some bastard being a bit over-excited at the post office. It'd be brilliant. Who wouldn't want that?"

"There's no pleasing some people," Charlie said, smirking. "I want to try out this new method, anyway. Now, preferably."

"Oh, has talk of me having spontaneous orgasms got you all hot and bothered? You kinky bastard, I never would have guessed."

"Shut up and shag me, Mitchell."

 

Sunday

Charlie rolled over and stretched, accidentally hitting David in the back as he did.

"Owfuck what the hell, Charlie?" David turned his head, his mussed up hair covering his eyes, which were squinting against the morning light.

"Shit, I'm sorry! I was stretching. This time," he added. "It's alright, you go back to sleep if you want."

"I'm sodding awake now, aren't I?" David squirmed into a slightly more upright position, scraping the duvet up around his neck. "How did you sleep?"

"Well, I didn't have the usual nameless dread and I certainly didn't imagine any burning zombies coming at me, so pretty well, I'd say. I mean, the fact that you weren't latched on like a frightened child helped, obviously."

"Maybe we'll eventually get round to being able to spoon," David said, hopefully. He laughed at Charlie's expression. "What? Nothing wrong with spooning. I think it's nice."

"Oh sure, it is nice. If you're not imagining the air being crushed out of your lungs by some unforeseeable accident."

"Touché," David said, giving him a playful shove. "Anyway, since you woke me up, I think I deserve something in return. To make up for it, hm?"

"Like what? I'm not making breakfast again, it's your turn."

"How about some of that positive reinforcement sex? That was, er, pretty intense." So intense, in fact, that David had the stirrings of arousal just thinking about it.

Charlie took a deep breath, and then nodded his assent. He turned to David and straddled him, lifting the duvet so that they were skin to skin. His cock twitched as it brushed David's stomach, and Charlie made himself lean in closer, so that David's arms could twine around his back.

"It's alright," David murmured against his collarbone. "It's alright, Charlie." He moved his hands down to Charlie's arse, and let them rest there. "You're in control, remember."

Charlie groaned as David licked the hollow of his collarbone.

"Tell me what you want."

"Touch me," he said, raggedly. "I, _fuck_, David," Charlie groaned. One of David's hands had found its way to his cock, while his other held him closely. Charlie could feel David's cock brushing against his skin, and he resisted the urge to say _fuck it_ to proper lubrication. "David, I," he shivered as he did _that thing_ to his cock with the little twist and the squeezing. "I want. Just. Fuck me. Now." His voice went growly, and David bit the skin on his shoulder in response.

"Impatient bastard," he said, scrabbling for the lube. Charlie rubbed against his stomach, craving the closeness, and not stopping to wonder about how far he'd come in the past week. David found the lube, and, urged on by Charlie's needy growls, thoroughly slicked his fingers, which he trailed down Charlie's arse. He stopped just at the entrance, and Charlie huffed out a breath which turned to a quick inhale as David's finger slipped inside, followed by a second and then, slower this time, a third. The noise Charlie made as David's fingers crooked went straight to his groin, and he could no longer chastise Charlie for being impatient.

He took the lube and applied a liberal amount to his cock, and Charlie adjusted his position and then David was inside him, and Charlie was pulling him closer and he could smell the sweat on his chest, and feel the hot huff of breath against his ear. "Fuck, Charlie," he moaned, as Charlie moved in a staccato rhythm, sinking down and jerking up again. His hands slammed against the wall behind David as he scrabbled for more purchase, more friction, just _more_ and then David was taken over by the sensation and the closeness and he came, mere seconds before Charlie did, muffling his embarrassing noises in the heat of Charlie's chest.

Breathing heavily, Charlie fell gently sideways and entwined his hand with David's. "You're all lubey," he said, his eyes half closed as he enjoyed the post-orgasm feeling.

"You'd be complaining if I weren't," David chuckled. He slid further down into bed, thoroughly exhausted. "Still a no to spooning?"

Charlie swatted him ineffectually. "No fucking spooning, you great sissy."

David grinned, and pulled Charlie's hand up to his chest. "I'll just have to hug your hand then."

"Yeah, alright."


End file.
